Life Is Good
by snowflake-eyes3216
Summary: What if Harry switched sides? Here is a glimpse of what could have happened. (A tumblr request from one of my wonderful followers).


This ficlet is dedicated to kaitlyncguy98, my wonderful follower requested this idea. I am sorry it took me so long, but better late than never.

Beta'd by my best friend, who, though he hates my ship and that I'm addicted to fanfiction, was willing to beta this for me. He's the best.

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'Life is good,' Harry thought as he was pushed back onto the tabletop. He groaned softly as the other man dominated his mouth. Harry's hands reached up and tugged harshly on pale blond hair, eliciting a quick gasp. That move earned him a sharp bite to his lip, then the contact disappeared. He whined, gazing up at the man with lust-blown eyes.

Draco smirked down at him. "Always so needy," he purred, running his hands up Harry's sides, "I love it."

Harry leaned his head back to rest against the mahogany table as the blond sucked at his neck. Hands worked the fastening of his trousers loose. This was heaven, and Harry was glad this was his life.

His life had not always been so good. Good? A more accurate description of his life would be 'trapped in a living nightmare'. But that was before. Before, he was the Golden Boy, mascot of the Light. Now, he was Death's Angel, master assassin. Draco had come up with that title, and Harry loved it much more than any of the ones he had been given before he switched sides.

That switch happened during the fight in the Department of Mysteries. Sirius died, and Harry lost his anchor to the Light. Sirius had hated dark magic with a vengeance, and he was Harry's only parental figure. His friends were useless anchors since they were not even his friends. Both were being paid: Ron with money and Hermione with promise of grandeur. They also cruised along on his fame; being the 'best friends' of the Boy Who Lived had its perks. Remus … The werewolf had been dorwning in Dumbledore's so-called benevolence for too long to be saved. He could not see the old manipulator under the grandfather guise.

Since that fateful night in Godric's Hollow, Harry had been Dumbledore's pawn. Why put a magical child with magic hating muggles? Why, in order to break his spirit and mold him as you wish, of course. So the Dursleys had been paid to take him in and treat him like a slave. Hatred festered in Harry's soul, and he swore to take his revenge. When he received his letter, he saw the fear in his relatives' eyes and began to think. He would hide his hate and be a sweet, naïve little boy. For awhile, everything had seemed wonderful, and Harry had been tempted to let go of his anger. Then things happened, specifically the events at the end of his first year. He asked Dumbledore questions, and the man skillfully redirected each one, answering without actually answering.

Thus, Harry's hatred only continued to grow, turning Harry's soul black. To feed the darkness, he started learning as much grey and dark magic as he could. Hermione and Ron never questioned when he went to bed early with headaches; the pair was glad to be rid of him. Harry would then sneak away under his cloak to the library, reading book upon book from the restricted section. Oh, the things he learned. He would have thought the old coot would have been more careful and not leave dark tomes where anyone could read them.

When Voldemort possessed him during the fight, the man was shocked at what he found. So much hatred. So much power. So much darkness. And in the muggle-raised Golden Boy of the Light, no less. Voldemort felt a kinship to the boy, as if their souls recognized something within the other. Of course, Harry learned all of this later. All he felt then was pain and shock, then Voldemort had thrown himself out of the boy and disapparated.

But Harry had made up his mind. He was determined to leave the Light and join the Dark. He knew he and Voldemort were linked mentally, so he would use that to his advantage. After being taken back to the prison that was the Dursley home, Harry planned. It took three weeks to get everything in order. The first thing he did was get rid of his trace. Next, he sorted through his possession, chosing only the things important to him: the photo album of his parents, his firebolt, Hedwig's cage. The snowy owl was hunting; she would rejoin her master after he was settled. Those three things were shrunk and placed in his rucksack. He picked up his portkey, which had taken him the three weeks to create and perfect. Holding the rock, Harry smirked as he looked around his room. They would never know what hit them. He activated it and spun away.

He stumbled slightly as he landed on the cliffs. There was not much time; the Order would know he was gone soon. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. 'Tom?' he called out with his mind, 'Please Tom. I need you. There isn't time. They'll find me. Please, come take me away. Come save me.' He sent a mental image of his location. Then he repeated it all, hoping the message made it to the man.

It did. Moments later, Harry heard the telltale crack of apparition. He turned towards the noise, then sagged win relief as he saw the snake-faced man; for a second, Harry had been afraid that the Order had found his first. "Good, you came," he said, a faint smirk on his face, "I wasn't sure if you even would." He glanced around. "I have a proposition for you, but we should go. There isn't time." The other man just looked at Harry in shock. Another crack sounded not too far away; that was enough to jerk the man into motion. Voldemort surged forward to grab the boy before disapparating.

And the rest is history. The following years were a blur of training, fighting, conquering, killing, and rebuilding. Oh, and sex. Lots and lots of sex. Though Harry had switched sides, there was still the animosity between him and Draco. All that tension finally came to a head one night a few months after his deflection, leading to one explosive fight. It ended with Harry on his knees, enthusiastically sucking as the blond thrust his cock down Harry's throat.

Even now, several years later, their relationship was just as whirlwind and intense, intermitted with loving, tender moments. The rings on their fingers proved they cared deeply for each other.

Harry was brought out of his memories when he felt Draco's hand slip down passed his bollocks to ghost over his hole. He moaned loudly and ground down against the probing finger. Just then, a throat cleared. Both men froze.

Sitting up to see over Draco's shoulder, Harry groaned, this time in embarrassment. There, in the doorway, stood Tom, Sev, Mr. Malfoy, and a few other high-ranking Death Eaters. Tom looked amused, Sev looked nauseous, and his father-in-law looked horribed. Draco tried to hide his face by burying it in Harry's neck. Harry chuckled weakly, giving the older men a small, embarrassed smiled.

Life was good. Just not right then.


End file.
